


An Exercise in "Uselessness"

by Misha_Collins_Overlord



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_Collins_Overlord/pseuds/Misha_Collins_Overlord
Summary: just Dean reflecting on childhood trauma.





	

Sometimes Dean could ignore it, when he was too caught up in Sam's laugh or Castiel's eyes. Ignoring isn't forgetting.  
There's no way to forget what makes up all of you.

He shook his head, and relented; he had forgotten. The brief, dark flashes don't count as memories. All that was there was fear and pain, because that's just how John was.  
"Hands-on parenting," Dean muttered, bitter, with a chuckle.  
On one hand, Dean knew damn well that he had never deserved any of it - he was a child.  
Yet the trauma was there, whispering that he was worthless, he deserves worse, he was probably lying because he could barely remember it anyway.

The emptiness welled up in his chest. The only thing that offered any comfort was knowing the sacrifice of his own body meant that Sammy wouldn't ever experience the crushing darkness, the weight of knowing he was so bad that even his own father couldn't help but inflict pain on him.  
Dean could feel the tears prickling in his eyes as he stared at the wall, knowing they wouldn't fall. It's so weird, he thought, to make predictions about a body that doesn't even feel like your own.  
He looked at his hands. They didn't look right. He lowered them. 

_Childhood trauma/abuse? Check._   
_Severe memory problems? Check._  
_Constant dissociation? Check._  
_Overwhelming depression? Double check. With extra suicidal ideation._

Who has two thumbs and is the poster boy for adults failing to cope with childhood trauma?  
That would be Dean. 

The worst part, really, is that this was separate from the hell shit. At least people don't just say _that isn't a big deal._  
No, actually, the worst part is knowing that this - even though it matters! - is _nothing_ compared to hell, and who is he to be pissed about being scared constantly and being slapped around a few times when he has been to literal hell? When his little brother's goddamn soul was tortured by the actual devil for centuries?  
He's being pathetic and he knows it. He has no right to complain when people have it worse. It's the kind of shame that he knows can't be eradicated with alcohol. He thought that by this stage in his life that he would've just gotten the fuck over it.  
"I'm a fucking wreck," he whispered, sighing deeply.  
Dean didn't know how to cope with it, how to accept it. He just knew that ultimately, it would be dealt with, or it would kill him.  
A laugh escaped his throat, knowing he always would and always will pray for the latter to come soon.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry that there wasn't really a more ... fulfilling end. i'm just dealing with my own shit and i thought dean would have similar feelings. it's basically just about me, through dean.


End file.
